


Shelter in The Stars

by silasfinch



Category: Wayfarers Series - Becky Chambers
Genre: F/F, Gen, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-21 18:38:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11363286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silasfinch/pseuds/silasfinch
Summary: Families rescuing families. The crew working togetherMy tribute to the the crew of misfits





	Shelter in The Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to K for the detail beta read; mistakes and misue of fluff are my own.

Shelter in The Stars

 

He could not let the children suffer.

 

Ashby Santoso had long ago accepted his mammalian instincts and Exodan principles, despite the two most important people in his life often chiding him for not having a more realistic view of life and morality on the fringes. Where an Aeluons and an Aandrisk saw inescapable realities and nameless preformed hatchlings he saw the faces of his niece and nephew merely reflecting a different set of circimstances. The Wayfarer's captain rarely regretted his stance, but it did occasionally place him in stressful situations that frequently escalated to ethical dilemmas.

 

Today was one of those days.

 

Dr. Chef and Rosemary were standing in front of him, waiting for a verdict on their proposal. Despite the almost incalculable differences in their species they managed to resemble each other in posture and air of expectation, or perhaps he was just skilled at reading his crew and inferring common meaning. That was something to discuss with Pei in his next letter; she seemed to enjoy hearing about his thoughts on such things.

 

 

"I assume we have enough extra supplies and room in the new med bay?" he asked finally looking between them.

 

Rosemary stopped tracing the Aandrisk feather necklace that she was never without to hand over a stack of reports, each labeled and itemized in order of priority. Dr. Chef, merely warbled in confirmation.

 

In her constant monitoring of the newsfeeds and messages from Nib, Rosemary had come across a call for help broadcasted with increasing urgency. The Wayfarer was in a system they were close towhile waiting for Jenks, Kizzy, and Pepper to source the final parts for the upgrades. A homestead ~~ed~~ ship had been caught in the crossfire of a violent civil war that had deployed bioweapons. The 15 remaining scientists and their families were in a bad way, relying on a patchwork of surprisingly compassionate off the grid volunteers. However, their collective health was failing, and the sickest amongst them needed to be transported back to the nearest GC medical outpost.

 

In different ways, Dr. Chef and Rosemary were both equally haunted by the consequences of chemical and genetic warfare. Ashby supposed he should have expected to be approached sooner with the Toremi having such far-reaching implications. The ship had been upgraded not only in their tunneling license but also their ranking in the unofficial listings of who was available to assist in emergency situations outside sanctioned channels or for crews that may not want to be the subject of official scrutiny.

 

"Ok, patch me through to the nearest relay station, and I'll see about arranging beds for them. Titus 724 Commander owes me several favors; I should be able to parley that into a berth and admission."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  1. **Necessities**



 

"You are going to need to stock up, will you be ok with our next market stop, I don't want you to be uncomfortable."

 

Sissix smiled at the obvious concern in Rosemary's voice as they worked together to look through her supply of Aandrisk medical supplies and comforts like rubs and oils. She wished to supplement Dr. Chef's synthetic varieties as much as possible, knowing that this transplanted, very young, feather family was likely traumatized.

 

She could relate to the feeling of being far away from home when difficulty strikes.

 

The sorting wasn't strictly a two-person job, but Rosemary seemed to enjoy making a pretense of spending 'productive' time together between their respective duties. This aspiration ranged from doing ship chores together or continuing her space education to doing supply runs. The colonist had confessed, somewhat sheepishly, that her habit of manufacturing time together was a practice she had been engaging in for most of the previous year without being able to articulate her reasoning at the time.

 

"I will be fine, Rosemary but I am glad you are here. I had something made for you on Hashkah. I was waiting for our next trip." Sissix made a dismissive gesture. All tunneling crews were used to having schedules change unexpectedly. Neither she nor Rosemary becomes overly attached to specific plans or destinations; endless amusements could be found on the ship after all.

 

Rosemary leaned over and nuzzled into the pilot's shoulder, murmured endearments that were an idiosyncratic mixture of Klip and Reskitkish dialects that was nonsense but still soothed Sissix in the fundamental way she didn't know was lacking until they had begun this new relationship phase.

 

Rosemary was also no longer bashful about accepting gifts and nor did she fear enforced reciprocity that sometimes occurred with the others. She eagerly took the square packaged Sissix handed her without comment, appreciating the concession to human traditions as the the packing material that had a simple pattern overlayed rather than cargo statistics.

 

"Oh Sissix, this is wonderful, thank you so much."

 

Folded neatly inside the case was a heat blanket but the material was clearly unlike the generic one she had purchased before their return from visiting Sissix's house family.

 

The original quilt was recognizable, and Rosemary smiled at the familiar feeling of warmth seeping into her limbs. Since she and Sissix had become lovers, Rosemary found herself accustomed to a greater level of heat then was standard either on her home colony or the ship at large.

 

However, it was evident an artist had been commissioned to work with the material, and the result was beautiful. A wide variety of images were woven into the material, reflecting different colors and inspirations. As Rosemary looked closer, she realized that each image in the patchwork was carefully chosen to reflect her interests, both old a new. An image of famous Mars landmark to a few of the symbols that were most frequent in all forms of hand speak and related artwork.

 

Rosemary smiled brilliantly - appreciating the effort such an effort at a personalised gift. Sissix was a pilot on a tunneling ship, both by nature and circumstance not given to sentimentality or material displays of affection. However, she had clearly listened when her lover had told her about Martian gift-giving ceremonies. How it had been one of the few good memories with her parents and extended family because there had been a monetary restriction and the day had primarily revolved around adding to hobby collections and individual passions.

 

Rosemary's love had been language and culture.

 

It was always tricky to calculate timeframes and time zone equivalence on a tunneling ship as by its very nature the ship bent the laws of time and space on a regular basis. There were even more complex calculations since they installed the new bore.

 

As near as she could figure today was a gift giving the day back on Mars.

 

 

 

 

 

  1. **Nourishment and Nutrients**



 

Dr. Chef felt a swell of satisfaction as he watched his stream of new patients being guided to either chairs or beds, which could now automatically mold to be most comfortable to the occupant's species. This development was a good thing too because the Wayfarer was currently hosting six members of a human family, four members of an Aandrisk feather family and several other species represented.

 

Dr. Chef felt several hand-feet tremble in sympathy as he hurried over a pair of Aandrisks in the far corner. The young male and female couple was clearly in pain and struggling to accept the broth Sissix and Rosemary were feeding them.

 

Personal care routines had clearly been very low on this group's priority list, beyond what was required for basic survival. Even then priority had been given to the youngest and the oldest members.

 

Both of them had endured an appalling molting with the majority of their scales

infected to a lesser or greater extent with sores gathering on their faces, hands, and claws. The feather mane had been broken in several places and indicated the possibility of a more systemic infection. Their crewmates were displaying their species-specific equivalents.

 

Long before he occupied his current gender, role and name Dr. Chef had treated many victims of the conflict. He was relieved to see that all these injuries, while severe, reflected sustained deprivation rather than a deliberate genetic based attack.

 

He had felt desperately helpless back then when it was endless rounds of returning soldiers to the field. In this current med bay he was confident in the difference that his healing could make, and the added delight was being able to feed them well at the same time.

 

Kizzy was busy laying out meals in the Fishbowl, including batches of smoky buns and bug strips.

 

"Right, let's get these scales sorted, shall we?" Dr Chef said cheerfully laying out several sets of scale scrubs and mixed lotions. He smiled as the two young scientists all but sagged in relief upon seeing the instruments of home and inhaling the familiar scent that signified being in safe hands.

 

Everybody needed to revert to being hatchings now and then.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  1. **Knowledge**



 

Corbin winced at depleted looking readouts and decoded in front of him. It was abundant that this ship's algae specialist had been away from his post for many TenDays, her or she must have died in the first outbreak. Somebody had done an almost credible job of trying to keep the emergency fuel pumping, but an expert's touch was needed.

 

He was gratified to be that person.

 

The solutions and levels were responding well to the formulas he had introduced, and it shouldn't take an unreasonable length of time for there to be a serviceable batch. The result was far from perfect, and the specter that was his creator/father would have been far from impressed, but Corbin was learning to find an unexpected level of satisfaction in the prospect of passing his knowledge to grateful recipients, even if there was no chance of the task leading to academic glory.

 

Maybe he wasn't entirely his father's imprint, after all, perhaps he could be more than a lesser, slightly muddled version.

 

"That is amazing; we can't thank you enough. There is no way we could afford such a replacement on our own, being a small scientific outpost of mostly unsanctioned officers, estranged from our respective governments." The newly healed refugee said joyfully.

 

Now receiving gratitude - that was another story entirely.

 

Having been raised by a mostly isolationist father, Corbin had limited experience with Aeluons or decoding their language of color. However, it did not take much to see that the one leaning against the door to his workspace was not in particularly good shape. Their colors were pale and the movements stiff and he susspected the doorframe was providing more than cursory support.

 

"The Wayfarer has only recently gained respectability ourselves, so therefore we aren't in any position to judge one way or the other. I had plenty of supplies to siphon off this batch, can find you some additional components for storage if you like?"

 

His statement was accurate. Rosemary had done an admirable job of meeting his specifications for the recent upgrades and had even surprised him was several addition luxuries such as a personal AI Bot whose sole purpose was to assist him in indexing his discoveries for any future publications.

 

Jenks had even offered to customise the device for him.

 

"Yes please, thank you Corbin" their colour was suffused with distinct pleasure and respect now resembling a collegue rather than a than a beaten down refugee.

 

 

"It is customary amongst the outer homestead ships to offer services in return. It is unlikely we will be in a position to do so properly for quite some time, but I have a small token."

 

Corbin eyed the offered Scrib wearily - dreading the contents and the subsequent social niceties.

 

"I noticed from your newest batches that you have a particular interest in cultivating rare Tystian hybrids. Several of my Allege Achieve group did a detailed review of the latest developments and strategies for cultivation - you are welcome to join our group and use the work."

 

Corbin felt a genuine smile flicker, still a strange but not unwelcome feeling.

 

 

  1. **Navigation**



 

She must not over talk.

 

Kizzy felt a familiar wave of sadness she and Jenks slightly helped the ship's remaining engineer to repair the most salvageable systems. The parts that could be installed with the least amount of trouble into the new interface system. There was a lot of good tech that could be used, Elvin had done a brilliant job. He seemed keen to learn about some of her more advanced modifications. His eager questions are almost making up for Jenks’ continued silence.

 

Almost.

"How is that rewiring coming, Jenks?

 

"Getting there" he muttered preoccupied with rewiring a particular circuit that was being stubborn, but was slowly responding to his customised toolkit.

 

"So these new systems aren't going to win any beauty contests, and you are going to have to be careful about which scans you go through, but your new ship should stay in one piece. They did a number on those drives, didn't they?" Kizzy asked sympathetically.

 

"Yes, things just kept getting worse - I couldn't keep up with the repairs", there was a tremble in both the voice and his whole body. Kizzy recognized the symptoms of sleep deprivation and being at the end of endurance She wished that Dr. Chef had not been so diligent in confiscating all forms of her illegal stimulants or else she would have offered them wholesale.

 

She was surprised when Jenks shuffled over pulling out something from his pack.

 

Without saying a word, he handed a small amount of relaxant into their guest's hand. Kizzy recognised as a gift from one of their friends on Cricket, who was not diligent about much but was an expert at making safe drugs to help individuals of all species deal with nightmares and trauma.

 

There was still going to be many nights when she would need to help him banish haunting memories of Lovey or stop him from cursing even the notion of an AI upgrade when Rosemary made the original suggestion.

 

However, the compassionate that was inherent to Jenks was reemerging and engaging with the world beyond circuits.

 

He would be ok after all.

 

 

  1. **Namesakes**



 

"What have you got there?"

 

The small child who was seating on the bench looked up at Ashby in surprise. The Exodan was gratified to see that his previously gaunt cheeks had a much healthier colour. He was happily munching on the bug strips that Dr. Chef was supplying him with, a small creature was wound around his neck, peeking out from under a curtain of hair and snuffling curiously before accepting a little piece.  

 

"He was the only one of his litter to make it, his brothers all died, but he is getting better now."

 

"I am very pleased to hear that."

 

"You are Even, aren't you?"

 

The boy nodded clearly preoccupied with his companion.

 

Ashby sat down next to the pair, smiling uncertainly at the creature who was slithering towards him.

 

"How are you two feeling being aboard my ship, is there anything I can do for you? I am sure I can rustle some other sweets if you want?" he offered moving to the storages areas when Evan's eyes light up enthusiastically. Feeling hungry himself he grabbed two ready-made Exodan deserts

 

"We have a few Sim games if you like playing them. My cousin is about cousin is about your age, and he vetted my choices." Ashby offered, knowing that the boy's parents were still recovering from surgery and the boy needed to do more than sit and worry.

 

"That would be great - Do you have to Star Trader III?"

 

"Are you kidding? That was first on his list."

 

"Is there anywhere I could make a bed for him?" Evan indicated the pet that was now asleep in his arms.

 

Ashby smiled and led them over to Kizzy's tailoring supplies and odds and ends. It was all arranged with her particular brand of logic and clashing colors; but Ashby immediately spied suitable bedding.

 

 

 

  1. **Next Step**



 

Their mission had been a success.

 

Of course, this mercy dash had not been a mission in the Wayfarer's understanding of the term, and they hadn’t tested out the new equipment and crew stations yet, but Ashby still felt a tremendous satisfaction as he finalized the final paperwork for their most recent guests.

 

He had doubted whether or not the Wayfarer was still a family.

 

He shouldn't have

 

There would, of course, be tougher challenges. They would have to work to earn their harder job listing in the tunneler’s hierarchy. The recoveries of Jenks and Ohan were not without significant setbacks. It was likely that he was going to need to testify more than once and maybe even make a formal witness statement for the records in years to come.

 

However, all that was secondary to this sense of achievement.

 

His crewmates and feather family had banded together to support their latest collection of refugees - each taking command of the required stations and assisting where needed. He was often ridiculed for the seemingly haphazard collection of personal, but Ashby firmly believed that the there were few crews that could handle the reality of where they lived and worked.

 

This last cycle had been the hardest in living memory. Ashby had spent more than a few nights of mandated leave in debates with his sister and brother in law. They had offered safer lines of work knowing he probably won't take any of them but feeling helpless in the wake of his nightmares and guilt.

 

He had even offered to turn over command to Sissix during some his darker moments.

 

She had clawed at him like he was a misbehaving hatching.

 

There is no other place for him. He would lead the Wayfarer whatever the cost. On account of both his ever deepening relationship with his best friends and his developing respect for Ohan and even Corbin.

 

This ship was his corner of the universe.

 

Till the end of his days.


End file.
